Lives of Quiet Desperation
by Nerikla
Summary: Specs is the only one left who can remember what life was like before Jack Kelly.


_"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." Henry David Thoreau, Walden_

  


The other boys can't remember what life was like before Jack. But I can remember- I can still recall the cold, bitter winters spent huddled beneath the statue of Horace Greeley, the time spent in the attempt to light left-over newspapers on fire. The others are so much younger than I am. My old friends have come and gone, and new boys have taken their places. The Manhattan newsies used to be such a bedraggled bunch, dirty and thin, so pitiful that even men from Brooklyn would flip us a penny ever so often.

I look older than I actually am. I left home when I was six, and joined the newsies after a year of begging in the streets. Snaps was kinder in those days. As the years dragged on, he became more bitter and inwardly focused. Jack was a relief, if you'll believe it, when he came to free us from the monotony of our cold gray lives.

Know why they call me Specs? I couldn't afford glasses, so I used to squint all the time. The first time I tried on a pair, I was amazed that there were "specks" on Freckle's face. I was even astonished that there were hairs above people's eyes. Before I put on those glasses I had never seen eyebrows clearly.

Snaps got a pair of glasses for me. He stole them, and though they were too big for my thin face, I loved him for it. They fit me just right now. My eyesight has gotten worse, but the way the glasses snap my vision into focus still takes my breath away.

For the first time, I could see individual blades of grass struggling to poke through the cobblestones. I could see pebbles lying on the side of the street. I could make out the tiny words printed on the papes I sold, even though I didn't know how to read them. It was a wonderful feeling, and the youthful awe that I felt for Snaps grew into a puppy-dog like affection. I followed our leader _everywhere._ Sometimes he called me Shadow, and it became a private nickname between us. It felt so good to share a personal joke with Snaps. Just being around him and having him speak to me made me feel as though I had been granted biggest favor in the world.

Then Snaps began to drift. Horseshoe noticed it first. Snaps' mind would fade out, and he wouldn't respond to questions that were asked directly. His left eye began to wander towards his nose. It frightened me. It frightened all of us.

He disappeared. He left us for weeks, all on our lonesome. We were an odd group from the beginning, unified only by our leader. When he left, we fell apart.

Two of the younger newsies and I could no longer afford to stay at the Lodging House. Snaps could usually sweet-talk Kloppman into letting the smaller kids board for half-price, but in those days the old man wasn't senile. He no longer let us in at our usual discounted price.

We took to the streets. The three of us slept beneath the statue, occasionally joined by one of the others. Our group, which consisted of the youngest newsies, took Snaps' disappearance the hardest. We became a ragged, fierce pack of boys- more wolf than human, as I heard one passerby whisper in sympathy. We didn't want sympathy. We slept outdoors in the freezing winter just so we could afford to sell papes. None of the bigger boys helped us out. None of them cared.

Ray got frostbite on his toes, which peeked through the ends of his battered shoes. They turned black and purple, and one of them oozed. Once we got Horseshoe's attention, Ray was again allowed to sleep in the Lodging House. Jump and I continued to sleep beneath the statue, huddled together for warmth. 

Finally, after those weeks of freezing torture, Snaps returned. He was wild and ranting by that time, but Kloppman again allowed Jump and I to board for half-price, provided we shared a bed. It was better than the outdoors. I can't remember a bed ever feeling so soft as the night Snaps came back to us.

Ray never really recovered from the frostbite. He began to have trouble walking, and got a bad cough. One day our group of Manhattan newsies returned to the Lodging House, only to find that Ray was gone. Snaps would say no more.

Jump and I missed Ray. He was our best friend.

We missed him, that is, until a week later Bangles found Ray's body.

Snaps cowed us all completely. He slept quietly each night, secretive to the point of obsession. Yet one time in a stupor he showed me the rusted gun that he slept with beneath his pillow. "Just in case," He crooned to me, stroking my soft brown hair as though I was his child, "just in case."

I've never been so scared of someone in my entire life. Not even Jack.

Snaps, the boy that we had all looked up to and trusted with our lives, was crazy. Sometimes he ranted, screaming at us until flecks of spit left his mouth. He made Jump cry after he back-handed the smaller boy so hard that he hit his hip against one of the sinks. Snaps was dangerously volatile.

That was when Jack showed up. He joined our group, though Snaps never trusted him. I liked the big boy, with the red handkerchief knotted about his neck and his easy way with words. He told me that he wanted to move out West- it felt good to know that the bigger boys also had dreams of escaping New York. I remember when the great Jack Kelly was just a run-away, an orphan, too poor to afford the cowboy hat he loves so much now.

I've never known the exact details of their fight, but one day Jump and I returned to the House only to be informed that Snaps had left. This reminded us so much of Ray that we didn't trust Jack for months.

But eventually, he wormed his way into our hearts. He looked out for us. I'd thought Snaps was a giving leader, but Jack was the epitome of caring. I'm the only one of the boys left who remembers Jack's humble life before he took over from Snaps. Maybe Conlon remembers. I've never spoken to him about it.

I don't know why you want to knows all of this, Morris. Just give me my money so I can go home. I only did this for Jump, you know. I only told you this because I'm the only one left that Jack hasn't gotten 'rid' of.

I'm scared, Morris. I'm real scared of what's going to happen.

Hand over the money. I'm going to see if I can afford a train ticket out of this hellhole.

I'm just so tired.

So tired of being afraid.

So tired of it all. 


End file.
